night for the last week, and the wind had created drifts, obscuring any tangible evidence of a visitor that wasn’t human.
Hurt…
A part of her wanted to help something in pain, but she was afraid. Terrified. It had to be her imagination—had to be. She didn’t believe in inhuman things voicing human thoughts. And she had never before felt this wildness, this primitive sensation. There was intelligence in the wildness, and the anger of a cornered beast.
And now it was here in the light of day, and she could see what it was. But she was afraid to see, afraid of what she’d see if she looked.
Hard hands gripped her shoulders, the very touch of him draining away the spell of that inner cry.
“
Brooke.
Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
She looked up into anxious golden eyes almost blindly for a moment; then her own eyes cleared of the mist of fear. “I—nothing. There’s nothing.”
“Brooke.” Cody’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Dammit, tell me what you’re afraid of.” Patience had gone by the board, Cody realized, when he’d seen the swift leap of terror in her green eyes and the rigid control he’d come to dread grip her face in stillness.
Hurt…
She winced, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “There’s…something outside,” she murmured, thinking dimly that if this didn’t send him in a mad dash away from a crazy woman, nothing would. “For about a week now, but only at night until a moment ago.”
“What are you picking up?” Cody asked quietly, as if it were the most natural and reasonable question in the world.
Brooke looked up at him wonderingly. “Pain…wildness…confusion,” she said unsteadily. “Not—not human.”
“An animal of some kind?”
She reached to rub her forehead fretfully. “I don’t know. Yes, I suppose. But I’ve never sensed an animal before, not even Mister. And, whatever it is, it’s intelligent. It’s hurt and I want to help it, but”—she laughed shakily—“it scares the hell out of me.”
Cody glanced briefly toward the front window, which showed a still-light fall of blowing snow. He looked back at her, his hands squeezing slightly and releasing her. “I’ll take a look outside,” he told her, turning away.
Momentarily frozen, Brooke swiftly caught up with him in the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Cody, no!”
He didn’t respond until they were in the kitchen. Reaching for the thick jacket still draped over the back of a chair, he said, “Honey, I have to find out what’s out there. For your peace of mind as well as my own.”
Her heart leaping into her throat at the endearment, Brooke had to swallow hard before she could speak. “I’ll go with you.”
Cody looked at her steadily for a moment. “Have to face the phantom yourself, I see. Is there a gun in the house?”
She nodded.
“Get it.”
Brooke came back into the kitchen moments later wearing her thickly quilited and hooded coat, and carrying a loaded .45 automatic. She handed the gun to Cody, watching while he examined it.
“Cleaned and oiled,” he noted approvingly. “You?”
“Josh taught me.” Brooke pulled the hood up over her hair, then went to the closet off the kitchen and exchanged her loafers for boots. She followed Cody out the back door, and they stood for a moment on the porch, both listening to the howl of the wind and Brooke listening to something else.
“Where?” Cody asked after one look at her face.
Brooke thrust her hands deep into her pockets and nodded jerkily toward a clump of trees about sixty feet from the back of the house and beside the beaten path leading down to the barn. “Over there.”
In step they moved out into the snow, feeling little of the wind but hearing it howling in the trees above them. Snow fell faster now, the flakes still large and wet and coming down almost in a solid curtain of whiteness.
“Careful,” Cody warned as quietly as possible over the sound of the wind. “If it’s hurt, it’s
Hurt…
A part of her wanted to help something in pain, but she was afraid. Terrified. It had to be her imagination—had to be. She didn’t believe in inhuman things voicing human thoughts. And she had never before felt this wildness, this primitive sensation. There was intelligence in the wildness, and the anger of a cornered beast.
And now it was here in the light of day, and she could see what it was. But she was afraid to see, afraid of what she’d see if she looked.
Hard hands gripped her shoulders, the very touch of him draining away the spell of that inner cry.
“
Brooke.
Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
She looked up into anxious golden eyes almost blindly for a moment; then her own eyes cleared of the mist of fear. “I—nothing. There’s nothing.”
“Brooke.” Cody’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Dammit, tell me what you’re afraid of.” Patience had gone by the board, Cody realized, when he’d seen the swift leap of terror in her green eyes and the rigid control he’d come to dread grip her face in stillness.
Hurt…
She winced, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “There’s…something outside,” she murmured, thinking dimly that if this didn’t send him in a mad dash away from a crazy woman, nothing would. “For about a week now, but only at night until a moment ago.”
“What are you picking up?” Cody asked quietly, as if it were the most natural and reasonable question in the world.
Brooke looked up at him wonderingly. “Pain…wildness…confusion,” she said unsteadily. “Not—not human.”
“An animal of some kind?”
She reached to rub her forehead fretfully. “I don’t know. Yes, I suppose. But I’ve never sensed an animal before, not even Mister. And, whatever it is, it’s intelligent. It’s hurt and I want to help it, but”—she laughed shakily—“it scares the hell out of me.”
Cody glanced briefly toward the front window, which showed a still-light fall of blowing snow. He looked back at her, his hands squeezing slightly and releasing her. “I’ll take a look outside,” he told her, turning away.
Momentarily frozen, Brooke swiftly caught up with him in the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Cody, no!”
He didn’t respond until they were in the kitchen. Reaching for the thick jacket still draped over the back of a chair, he said, “Honey, I have to find out what’s out there. For your peace of mind as well as my own.”
Her heart leaping into her throat at the endearment, Brooke had to swallow hard before she could speak. “I’ll go with you.”
Cody looked at her steadily for a moment. “Have to face the phantom yourself, I see. Is there a gun in the house?”
She nodded.
“Get it.”
Brooke came back into the kitchen moments later wearing her thickly quilited and hooded coat, and carrying a loaded .45 automatic. She handed the gun to Cody, watching while he examined it.
“Cleaned and oiled,” he noted approvingly. “You?”
“Josh taught me.” Brooke pulled the hood up over her hair, then went to the closet off the kitchen and exchanged her loafers for boots. She followed Cody out the back door, and they stood for a moment on the porch, both listening to the howl of the wind and Brooke listening to something else.
“Where?” Cody asked after one look at her face.
Brooke thrust her hands deep into her pockets and nodded jerkily toward a clump of trees about sixty feet from the back of the house and beside the beaten path leading down to the barn. “Over there.”
In step they moved out into the snow, feeling little of the wind but hearing it howling in the trees above them. Snow fell faster now, the flakes still large and wet and coming down almost in a solid curtain of whiteness.
“Careful,” Cody warned as quietly as possible over the sound of the wind. “If it’s hurt, it’s
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